


Turning III

by padawanhilary, Telesilla



Series: Turning [3]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Animal Transformation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-27
Updated: 2006-06-27
Packaged: 2017-10-05 14:36:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padawanhilary/pseuds/padawanhilary, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the high passes Orlando is finally forced to reveal his secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turning III

Orlando had intended to be days ahead of Sean and his caravan during their respective passes, all the better for his secrecy. Now, he's trapped. He has no choice but to simply disappear.

_And hope none of the caravan's beasts of burden go missing._

So after nearly a week of spending his nights in Sean's arms and his days traveling along, guiding horses and mules and seeing them fed and watered, Orlando hops down onto a straight stretch of road, leaving most of his clothing behind and taking only a packet of cured meat to (hopefully) tide his hunger.

He wonders if Sean will take him back when he returns. The thought gives him a surprising pang. He's grown far more attached to the man than he'd like to admit.

Sean, who had been riding at the head of the column most of the day, doesn't notice that Orlando is missing until it comes time for dinner. "Where's that lad of yours wandered off to?" Marcellus Lobardi the caravan master asks. "There're hungry beasts that need feeding."

Frowning, Sean looks around. "I ... damn, I have no idea." He looks for Orlando's horse and finds it tied with the rest, most of Orlando's gear still in the bags. Nor have any of Orlando's possessions vanished from the wagon set aside for the guards and handlers' use. "I'll help with the animals," he says to Marcellus after a half hour spent looking for Orlando.

As he feeds the animals with the help of Marco, the other handler, Sean can't help remembering the way Orlando just seemed to show up out of nowhere that night on the road. _Maybe he was just some spirit, bored and looking for adventure._

Orlando crouches in the woods, just out of sight of the camp. It's growing cold, now, and he wishes...gods, he wishes.

_Lady, protect them,_ he thinks, and moves deeper into the wood for the change.

It comes quickly, more quickly than he expected, and the _pain_ is much worse than it ever has been. Startled, Orlando retreats further, letting out a low groan. He eats as much of the meat as he can manage before he loses use of his hands and it begins in earnest.

Anyone in hearing might suspect that a man were being eaten alive. Orlando's groans turn to screams as his bones grow, tearing quickly out of the structure of his body and filling in with thick, corded muscle. Wings spread like fresh leaves; teeth extend gleaming from his mouth. By the time the sun has dipped behind the mountains, Orlando de Fiori has become a dragon.

Shortly after they've been fed, all the animals, horses and oxen alike, become restive. Although Marco and Sean do their best, it takes them quite a while to get the beasts settled down again. "I don't like it," Marco mutters to Sean. "First Orlando disappearing, then this? It's not good."

His concerns are echoed by Marcellus when he comes back to make sure the animals are settled for the night. "I could go out and look around," Sean offers and Marcellus gives him a sour look.

"And have you vanish on us as well?" The caravan master shakes his head. "Just be wary tonight and don't let the men get lazy while they're on guard."

The dragon is watching the camp, claws tensing and releasing on a thick branch of pine. There is a draw that he feels to that human, the tall one, but it makes no sense to him. Feeling no fear, he pushes out of the tree and spreads his wings, pushing the air out under him as he descends on the camp.

The instant the dragon becomes visible, the animals go completely wild and the men aren't far behind them. "Under the wagons," Sean yells. "All of you who don't want to help me with the animals."

He's assuming most of his fellow guards will choose to remain hidden in safety and he can't really blame them. Dragons, after all, aren't all that common in this part of the world.

They aren't all that common in the north either, but Sean's tactics teacher had faced them, as had his weapons master. "Help me with the animals," Sean says to Marcellus, who, not surprisingly, remained out in the open. "And we might need to sacrifice one so that ... PUT THAT AWAY, FOOL!" he roars at one of the guards who is cocking his crossbow.

The young man looks at Sean in surprise. "Just do it!" Sean snaps, "I don't have the time to explain."

"We've got the extra oxen," Marcellus tells Sean. "We can cut one loose for it," he adds gesturing to the dragon as it hovers overhead.

The fear of the animals is thick in the air, and the dragon circles steadily, a huge vulture waiting for a death. The sense of closeness with the tall one increases as the dragon catches the sound of his voice on the wind, and he dips lower, closer, eyes sharp.

Grabbing the rope halter that hangs around the neck of one of the extra oxen, Sean pulls the terrified beast down the road. "Here!" he calls out, looking up at the dragon. "Take this one and leave us be," he adds, trying to sound like his father speaking firmly to the hunting dogs.

But the dragon is not interested in the terrified ox. He lights on the ground a good distance away, cautious. He is not much taller than a man himself, though his wings are easily twice as broad as this man is tall. Ducking his head down instinctively, he holds the man's eyes and lets out a low, throaty rumble.

Sean stares at the dragon; in dim light of the full moon and the torches from the camp, he can see that the beast appears to be red in color. But something else catches his attention: there's something odd about the dragon's eyes; for some reason Sean expects them to be deep, rich brown, much like....

He stares at the dragon, refusing to believe his own speculation. And yet ... the great beast looks as if he recognizes Sean for some reason, and Orlando did disappear.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, glancing at the ox who has given up on running and is just standing there shaking like a leaf.

The dragon's gaze follows Sean's to the ox, but he does not make a move. He shuffles closer, eyes fixed to Sean's again, and drops to his front paws, extending his neck to sniff.

"Green Father protect me," Sean mutters, his hand reaching for the wooden rune disk he always wears. He doesn't look away from the dragon, not wanting to be surprised if -- _when, more like_ \-- the dragon decides to attack.

Eyes flicking to the man's hand -- he has been attacked before -- the dragon crouches lower, then shuffles forward. His posture is that of an animal ready to flee in an instant. If need be, the dragon can simply hoist himself into the air and be gone.

"What do you...." Sean begins and then stares at the dragon's haunch. There's a scar there, a big long mark that looks like it was made with a boar spear and he can't help remembering the slightly jagged scar on Orlando's thigh.

"Is that really from a bar brawl?" Sean asks, stunned by his own foolhardy courage.

Claws digging restlessly into the earth, the dragon glances back at the ox. The man's words are meaningless, and the dragon is quickly losing interest; he is now weighing the possibility of snatching the ox and darting away before any sharp things come out.

"Go on," Sean says, backing away from the ox. "If you're hungry ... Orlando," he adds, keeping his voice low so that no one but the dragon will hear him.

Something nags at the dragon's instinct; familiarity, perhaps. Recognition. He lets out another low, almost purring groan, then makes a dash for the ox. It lets out a startled, pained cry as the dragon's claws sink in; he tumbles it to the ground and tears out its throat. By the weight of its fall he is aware he cannot drag it away, so he eats, back to the man. His wings are tense and low, shielding nothing, but the man will not hurt him.

Glancing back at the caravan, where those few people not cowering under the wagons are staring at him, but no one's close enough to hear him. _I'm going to be hearing about my bravery and my foolishness for years after this. If he doesn't kill me._

The man is still behind him. The dragon can feel it. He raises his head, cocking it up sharply to swallow, and then turns to look at the man. He lets out a sharp fluttering noise, watching the man curiously until that bores him again and he turns back to eat.

Feeling more than a little daring, Sean moves in closer. "I don't know if you're really Orlando or not, but if you are ... I'll look after your horse and your things. You can come back to us when...when you can."

The dragon swings his big head around, glaring at the man. He growls out a soft threat. He doesn't care how comfortable the man feels to him; this food has been claimed.

"No, no," Sean says, putting his hand up. "I won't take your food away from you."

Going back to eating, the creature hunches lower over his kill. He shifts his claws in the dust of the road, settling in. The man's presence feels quite good, now, as though he were a member of a flight.

Feeling the need to remain between the dragon and the caravan -- although which of them he's protecting, Sean doesn't know -- Sean remains and watches the dragon eat. He's surprisingly neat for such a large beast and Sean finds himself thinking of the way Orlando was so neat at dinner that first night.

With the ox mostly eaten, the dragon raises his head at last and looks at the man again. He rumbles, then backs up, claws dragging at the dust before he stretches his wings, then gives them a shake. Belly full, he is suddenly sleepy, and the night will pass quickly for him, even cold.

"Are you going to stay?" Sean asks, looking back at the caravan and then at the dragon again. "Right here on the road?"

More useless noises. This human makes a lot of them. The dragon gives the man a long look and then leaps into the air, pushing the air out in a sharp gust and letting it carry him away.

"Well and that's that," Sean says, looking at the remains of the ox. After waiting a few moments to make sure the dragon won't return, he turns to call over his shoulder. "Marcellus? You might want to have some of the men render this down so we can have soup. No need to waste anything."

"Certainly," Marcellus says, looking at Sean with awe.

Sighing, Sean turns to supervise the cleanup. He hates being looked at like that; it takes him back to a place and time he'd rather just forget.

_-tbc-_


End file.
